When we were young

Whenever it was playtime

We would dash into the tatami room

It’s a playhouse

With a golden glow.

 

As we enter

I see that desk

The sun streaming in through the windows

Turns it into glistening gold

The light, fragrant smell of fresh pine

Like a gentle breeze

Fills the room with its luxurious aroma.

 

The desk can seat two

Two sets of drawers, two spaces for chairs

My friend and I take a seat.

I open a case full of keys

They’re vibrant keys for beauty

They transform a blank sheet of paper

Into a scene of ineffable beauty

We start to draw

Or paint

Or doodle

Things about life

Chatting and laughing as we do.

 

Sometimes I put my brush down

And take a break

I look around the room

Stare out the windows

There are four of them

Little guardians of the house

That only let the light and the view

Leak through.

 

Through one of the windows

I can see Memorial Park.

During the holidays

They decorate that massive fir tree

So at night

I can see all those merry lights

Shining like drops of golden rain.

 

Sometimes we would just lie on the tatami mat

A thin blue Japanese mattress

On top of the green woven tatami bed

Lying on the mat, stretched out

Is riding on a dove’s back

Comforting and relaxing

Free in thoughts.

 

We end our little play date

By storing our works

In the wooden floor cabinet

With its smooth sliding glossy doors

It’s the perfect place for keeping

The tokens of friendship.